[Fic] Nine Circles (A Legacy of the Force Fanfic: SPOILERS!)

[Tysyacha]

Author's Note: The green quotes are from INFERNO, by Troy Denning, 2007.

 

STAR WARS: NINE CIRCLES

 

Forty years after the Battle of Yavin, the JEDI ORDER has been struck by a blow just as hideous (and insidious) as the late Emperor Palpatine's seizure of galactic power. Master MARA JADE SKYWALKER, the courageous wife of LUKE, has been slain by an unknown assassin. At her funeral in the Jedi Temple upon the planet of Coruscant, a recently-dubbed Jedi Knight, TYSYACHA DVUKH, is struggling to come to terms with Mara's death. As is her husband, who has withdrawn into himself, closing off from any sources of more pain. Little do LUKE and TYSYACHA know that JACEN SOLO, now DARTH CAEDUS, is coming to pay his last respects to the powerful aunt that he murdered.

 

CAEDUS knows that the time to assert his control of the galaxy draws near. He needs a helper, an apprentice--if not BEN SKYWALKER, Luke's son with enormous potential, then who? Perhaps a descendant of the Jedi Exile, the purported "death of the Force", would suit him better as a right-hand-man.

 

Thus, TYSYACHA must decide whom to follow, and descend into an inferno not of her own choosing, but which has nine seductive circles of its own...

 

*******************************

 

THE FIRST CIRCLE: LIMBO

 

I knelt in the furthest row of my fellow comrades, my head bowed, my eyes barely capable of warding off the tears they so longed to expel. Jedi, it was reported throughout the galaxy, were supposed to be examples, if not paragons, of self-mastery and composure. Sadly to say, I was not. The lady upon the funeral pyre at the front of the Temple had been my own Master.

 

Mara Jade had pushed me hard, made me work, but this was no bad thing. I bore no resentment toward her for the long studies, the strenuous training (with no trace of any practice droids), the lessons, the meditations. It was all part of my growth, my development as a Jedi, and though some of my fellow Padawans only half-jokingly called it "torture", I knew better.

 

Mara Jade had known what torture was, having been an Emperor's Hand. She had seen the fear in captives' eyes, as she had seen the fear in mine, and back then she had exploited this fear to break dozens and kill hundreds more.

 

Now, she had helped me to cast off my own fear, though it was not fully gone. What would happen at this funeral? Would my Master return to the Force? I was afraid for her. If it did not reclaim a body, the soul was lost too. I took a deep breath and tried to let go of my sorrow, for her sake.

 

"We have come to this sacred place to say farewell to our dear friend, a fierce warrior and a noble dispenser of justice. Mara Jade Skywalker was one of the brightest starz of the Jedi Order, and we will miss her."

 

Saba Sebatyne, a reptilian humanoid called a Barabel, had startled me out of my reverie by beginning a eulogy for my Master. I was a bit confused--was not Leia Solo, Mara Jade's sister-in-law, supposed to give it? I had felt some commotion and upheaval through the Force a little bit ago, but I felt it would be disrespectful to break my meditation just because of a few noises above.

 

Something's wrong, my feelings told me, but I shook my head and silently responded, Everything's wrong. My Master is dead, and I could do nothing to help. I wasn't where she was in her final hours, to fight for her.

 

There is no death--there is the Force. This Jedi tenet brought me comfort, but no peace. Not yet. Mara was not one with the Force I served.

 

"Her light has been taken from the galaxy, but it has not been extinguished. It lives on in us, in the times we shared the hunt, in the lessons she taught us as a Master." I myself could relate to that. "It lives in the love and counsel she gave as a mate, in the sacrifices she made as a mother. As long as our hearts beat, her light lives inside us." I knew that last statement was meant for Luke and Ben.

 

Skywalker--her husband and son. I gritted my teeth and let my tears flow. I didn't care what anyone thought of me, or would think of me. Saba's words helped, and they hurt. Why did it have to happen--this senseless murder?

 

Murder. A murmur. I turned, ever-so-slightly, to see a figure clad in black stride up the aisle, his shimmersilk cloak rippling behind him. This was Jacen Solo, Mara's nephew, and Luke's, too. Ben's cousin. A possible killer? "Excuse my tardiness," he said. "I was detained by urgent matters of state. I'm sure everyone understands."

 

All at once, I felt bewildered, frightened, angry, and a bit excited. So this was the man who dared show his face at his aunt's funeral. No one, as of yet, had any definitive proof of Mara Jade's assassin, but the brazen way that Jacen Solo had entered did not speak well of his character or his motives. I wanted to rise up and strike him, yet I kept kneeling, holding my peace. If I had no proof, I had no real quarrel, no real reason to act thus.

 

As the funeral continued, I watched Jedi Solo, unable to look away. He was so powerful, stalwart, unaffected and untouched by hard feelings or weepy emotions. Perhaps I could learn a lesson from his respectful stoicism.

 

Mara Jade, to my immense relief, returned to the Force in the end. Her body vanished, as if it were becoming a ghost, one of the mythical creatures that faraway humans had once believed in. Yet again, I knew better. My Master, now that her nephew, husband, and son were affecting a reconciliation, was finally at peace. However, I wondered--how long woud their truce last?

[Tysyacha]

THE SECOND CIRCLE: THE LUSTFUL, OR PASSIONATE, SOULS

 

Was this what Jedi were to feel in times of great sorrow--this emptiness, this detachment from all of life and from living in the here and now? Surely not. Surely there was something else to feel, not a lack of emotion or denial of pain, but rather a peace that transcended both one's emotion and pain.

 

This peace was not what I felt. I wished to find my Master's killer and cut him down. Make him pay for his betrayal and affront to the one living Force.

 

"Knight Dvukh?" A soft voice, belonging to an older male. "Are you all right?"

 

Luke Skywalker, to my great surprise, knelt down beside me. I had never known the Grandmaster from more than a distance, as his wife Mara had been in primary charge of my Jedi training. He was almost always talking with Masters Kyp Durron, Corran Horn, and Kyle Katarn, discussing galactic politics and obscure matters of philosophy, I supposed. Yet here he was now, with me, asking about my welfare as if I were not merely one of a hundred Knights, but the only one that mattered. For the moment, I felt blessed.

 

"You want to find him, don't you?" whispered Luke slowly. "Mara's killer?"

 

I nodded. "Not just find him, Grandmaster--kill him. I'm sorry, but I do."

 

I couldn't bear to look up into his face, for fear he would reproach or condemn me for my vengeful feelings. Instead, he gently tilted my chin up so that my eyes met his. "I know," Luke said, "even though I'm supposed to be a Jedi and disown such hate. Even worse, I suspect it's someone who attended this very funeral, a man I'm close to and yet not close to at all."

 

I nodded, figuring he was talking about Jacen Solo. If he wasn't, I'd be hard-pressed to come up with another possible perpetrator. Very hard-pressed.

 

"If we keep our minds on revenge, eventually our actions will follow," said Grandmaster Skywalker, "and when that happens, it's hard to keep from raging out of control. I've done something recently that I sorely regret, and I did it not in the name of justice, but of revenge. I thought that killing a Sith Lord would bring an end to the darkness in the galaxy. I was wrong. Not only did the darkness not end when she died, but continued and increased. I fear Jacen, my nephew, has fallen to it. His passion has overtaken him."

 

I had a question for Luke. "What about love? Is that such a wicked passion?"

 

He sighed. "Love may be the only passion worth living for, fighting for, and dying for. However, it's hard to tell what is true love and what is not in these ambiguous times. Come with me. I'd like you to help me keep tabs on my niece, Jaina Solo, and her assistants Jedi Knight Zekk and Jagged Fel."

 

I followed Luke to a security holo-room, and he turned it to full power. Spaceships, flying above a world I didn't recognize, solidified into view.

 

"These three have no idea that they've been 'tagged'," explained the Grandmaster, "that anyone is watching them. However, I've put tracking sensors on some of their equipment to make sure they're safe. Jaina and her colleagues have gone to find and capture a rogue Jedi named Alema Rar. Alema's a Twi-lek, one lekku short and many light-years short of sane."

 

His tone was not joking, but sad. I nodded, knowing firsthand the perils of living with a limp left leg and very-un-Jedi-like balance and coordination.

 

"These tracking devices that I planted will allow us to hear them," Luke said. "Listen. We may hear some valuable information if Alema's in league with either Jacen or some other Sith fledgling we haven't heard about yet."

 

I nodded and listened. Though static interfered with the messages between Jaina Solo, Zekk, and Jagged Fel, they were crystal-clear to me in the Force.

 

"It might take some effort to find her," I heard Jaina say, "but I'd bet my shirt that Alema is here."

 

Practically at the same time, I heard Jagged Fel cry out, "I accept!" and Jedi Knight Zekk second, "Okay!"

 

"What?" asked Jaina. I was a bit confused, too.

 

"Your bet," smirked Zekk. "I accepted."

 

"Hey, I was first!" I quickly heard Jag protest, his tone sounding truly like a joke instead of the half-satirical description of Alema Rar that Grandmaster Skywalker had provided. "The bet is with me."

 

Jaina Solo, clearly sounding irritated, shot back, "Ha, ha--very funny. What part of not interested don't you two understand?"

 

I sighed, blowing my bangs up in a slight puff before they floated down to rest on my forehead again. If this was love, I never wanted to fall in love. Here they were on a dangerous mission that could get them killed, and here Jagged Fel were, and Jedi Knight Zekk, acting like a couple of schoolboys. What was so special about Jaina Solo, anyway, that they couldn't bring themselves to quit fighting over her, even for one second, and concentrate on the mission at hand? Rumor had it around the Jedi Academy that both Zekk and Fel were "on the outs" with Jaina, the oh-so-famous and privileged daughter of Han and Leia. I was jealous, yes, but not of her "suitors". I knew I was nothing compared to her, not even having any unique Force powers.

 

I felt ashamed of being jealous, and guilty. If Jaina was worthy of love, worthy enough to have two possible beaux pursuing her, what was I?

 

"A capable Jedi Knight." Grandmaster Skywalker's smile was proud and kind. "True love will come in time, Knight Dvukh. How old are you--eighteen?" I nodded. "As for this--bantering going on between Zekk and Jagged Fel and my niece, it all stems from the fact that these three are sort of blind. They can't see the consequences of their mutual irritations and jealousies, and it's clouding their judgment a bit. Don't worry. You don't have to feel annoyed at them, or envious of Jaina. The Force has a way of balancing everything out."

 

I certainly hoped Grandmaster Skywalker was right. I continued listening.

[Rogue Nine]

I'll admit right off the bat that I've not ready anything of the Legacy of the Force series; indeed, I've never read anything past Vector Prime because I refuse to accept the travesty that has been made of the EU by the Vong. But I have been keeping up with the general events via Wookieepedia, more out of morbid curiosity than anything else, so I'm generally familiar with what happens post-Vong. This is not to say that it's been endearing itself to me, especially not when they've killed off two of my favorite characters (Chewie and Mara Jade). All that being said, I can still appreciate good writing in spite of the setting.

 

Tysy, you continue to demonstrate excellent writing skills combined with a distinctive style that is all your own. I like that you've combined elements of Dante's Inferno with the story of Jacen Solo and his fall to the Dark Side, though I don't think it'll be a surprise as to which Circle he'll end up in.

 

Keep going! I'm interested on your take on the next level of the Inferno, since it's my favorite one. xD

[Tysyacha]

THE THIRD CIRCLE: THE GLUTTONOUS

 

Well, well. It seemed Jacen Solo, the Jedi Knight who had so brashly ventured to the funeral of the aunt he had possibly killed--and my Master--had taken a Jedi Academy upon Ossus captive. Captive. I learned this through the tiny communication tags that Grandmaster Skywalker had placed upon the equipment of Jaina Solo, Knight Zekk, and Jagged Fel. I heard the static, tried to disbelieve my own ears. Was this a real conversation, in real life?

 

"Why don't you tell me what's going on here?" asked the irritated and slightly frightened voice of Jaina. Had she been attacked?

 

"Allow me to present Major Serpa," replied a voice I didn't recognize. "Apparently, he's here to protect us."

 

"You never know what those terrorists might attack next," said a male voice that I thought was Serpa's. I shivered.

 

"Jacen is holding the academy hostage?" Jaina fumed. Why would he do that? Certainly Jacen knew that if any harm came to the Younglings or older Padawans, the entire Order would come down on his head. Might even make him pay in blood this time.

 

"You know we won't," admonished Luke, softly but sternly. "The Jedi never kill their prisoners, no matter what their crimes. Defense is defense, but if we strive to assassinate or execute him, then what makes us better than he?"

 

"We're doing the right thing," I said, grumbling. "We Jedi serve the Light."

 

A small smile played at the corners of Luke's lips. "Jacen also believes he is doing what is right for the safety of the galaxy. His intentions may have been noble once, but they have become darkened. The ends never justify the means," he explained. "In fact, in this case, means have corrupted ends."

 

I bit my lower lip. "You mean Jacen will do anything to further his cause?"

 

"That's what I fear."

 

"Even kill Younglings? Padawans? They could be spared, even as servants!"

 

Luke looked at me. "That's true, but I don't think Jacen will have the sense, even tactically, to consider children and Jedi Knights as anything but what they are right now--hostages and future collateral damage. That's code for 'unintended people dying', and in Jacen's case, he doesn't care. The scale of this war is beyond mere individuals. It's on a scale of planets, worlds, this very galaxy. Who cares if hundreds of Younglings die for the sake of it?"

 

"I care." My knees trembled. Luke gave me a sad look that said I know.

 

"Why don't you go eat something?", he suggested, his tone not one of condescension or a desire to get rid of me so he himself could listen to more "sensitive" information, but more out of fatherly concern. "I bet you're starved." I smiled and laughed a little, because I was. It was mealtime.

 

Some of the other Jedi Knights called me obzhora--"glutton" in my native tongue. One who eats all day and night, her hunger never satisfied. Even though I was hurt by this insult, it was true. I was hungry day and night, yet not always for food. My appetite was big, but my aspirations were bigger. I hungered for knowledge, for wisdom, for Jedi power, for true love. There was a void in my soul that nothing I had learned or experienced yet could fill. What was it? I tried to commune with the Force every day, yet that hunger remained. I felt strong and weak, powerful and powerless all at once. I meditated on this as I strolled toward the Jedi temple cafeteria.

 

"What'll it be, obzhora?" said Lina Denn, a fellow Knight. "Everything?" Her friend Sladei Kronn giggled beside her, her dimpled cheeks flashing red.

 

"You're not a waiter droid," I said softly, "so I don't think you really care."

 

"Ooh! The weakling's getting all Dark-Side! I think we should recommend her for extra chores," she suggested to Sladei. "Or at least extra laps around the training hall." The two girls exploded into giggles, leaving me standing alone. I felt ashamed and guilty. They were above food and drink, all of its pleasures and tastes, so why couldn't I be? I sat down and a waiter droid brought me some water and a cannok fillet. Not diet plant-based material, but it was my favorite. I needed some comfort food after what I'd just heard.

 

If you think I'm only referring to the insults from Lina and Sladei, you're wrong.

 

I indulged in my cannok fillet, taking as many meaty bites as possible. What else could I do? Everyone else was mincing and laughing, swallowing only the measured mouthfuls appropriate to Jedi Knights. Plates and silverware clanked merrily, and I felt my heart sink with each guffaw. Did they even know?

 

They aren't hungry, a sad and sudden insight said. They're above hunger, and that's what makes them good Jedi. Perhaps you should resign.

[Tysyacha]

(Author's Note: Thank you, Empress Padme! Forgive me if you are further along in the INFERNO book than I am in my companion piece, but now you can play along with me and all the other readers in "Spot the Real Dialogue!" I hope that I continue to do you, and Troy Denning's great novel, justice.

 

Thank you, Rogue Nine, for reading this story and ending my discouragement! I assure you that a few surprises are in store for you on which characters are in which circles. Not Jacen, though. I think you're very, very right...)

 

Also, thank you, machievelli, for giving such a glowing review to this story! It would be a great honor if you read it all the way through and, once I was done with all nine installments, to give me an updated review in PM's. )

 

THE FOURTH CIRCLE: THE GREEDY, MISERLY, AND THE SPENDTHRIFTS

 

After my lonely dinner, still finding the laughter of my fellow Jedi Knights ringing in my ears, I decided to go on a meditation walk through the Temple. I wondered if any of my comrades knew about the galactic war or if they were still involved in training, with its various drills and practice forms. Only silence answered me--the peaceful and measured silence of a museum at rest. A deep orange-red sunset glowed through each beveled window.

 

Pristine transparisteel. Golden busts of Jedi Masters past and present, their eyes eternally set in a gaze of contemplation. Gleamingly polished tile floors. Lush carpets, made only out of the finest furs and synthetic skins. Marble busts of those who had not been sensitive to the Force, but had served the galaxy anyway: Han Solo, Padme Amidala Skywalker, Wedge Antilles, Lando Calrissian, Gilad Pellaeon, former Supreme Commander of the GA.

 

All this opulence and wealth seemed so petty, so ostentatious, while I was feeling hundreds of lives vanish distantly into the Force. Winking out like tiny light bulbs. What did it matter if we almost idolized the past when our future as Jedi and forward-thinking citizens of the galaxy was so uncertain?

 

I was so deeply entrenched in my thoughts that at first I did not notice him.

 

"Jedi Knight Dvukh?" Master Kyp Durron asked. "Meditating, are we? Good."

 

I jumped and took a few steps backward and to the right. "Master Durron! How nice to see you. I'm sorry if I didn't notice you at first, but my mind was so focused that it ignored your most noble distraction." A sheepish smile.

 

Master Durron nodded and returned it, though his was not so chagrined. "I see you are on the roster list for refresher duty tonight. I know it may seem like a menial task, but we Jedi must keep in mind what it means to serve."

 

"If you please, Master," I said softly, "speaking of 'serve', I intend to enlist immediately in the latest fighting squadron sent to hold back Confederation forces. There's a galactic war going on, as we all know, and with all of the soul-searching I've been doing lately, refreshers are the least of my worries."

 

"I know perfectly well about the war, Knight Dvukh," replied Master Durron coolly. "We have more than enough enlisted in the battalions right now, and I would loathe to see you in one. Your talents are great, but at times your boldness is greater. I would never believe you'd sincerely endanger our forces, nor consciously intend to, but there is the possibility. You were built for peace, not for war, and someone has to mind the people here at home."

 

"You mean the Temple." My smile had turned into a smirk. "I see. Hundreds of sentient beings, human, droid and otherwise, are dying, perhaps thousands. I can't clean refreshers while this madness is going on. Jacen Solo, if he is indeed the one behind all of these atrocities and the impetus behind the Confederation's attacking us, must be stopped. Not killed--not necessarily--but brought to justice. I wish to be one of the ones to do so, Master."

 

"And is your surname Odnova, Tysyacha?" asked Kyp Durron. A low blow. Odnova, in this case, meant one, first, masterly, and Dvukh, my real last name, meant two, second, apprentice. I blushed. "Are you refusing to obey a direct order? I am giving you one. Report to your post."

 

"How could I serve the galaxy any better by scrubbing latrines and sanisteam stalls than I could on the front lines?" Sadly, I shook my head. "I couldn't. You and I both know much more is at stake than this Temple. The lives of the Jedi in it, and those who are not sensitive to the Force, matter more. I may be doing this for pride, but that's not the only reason why I want to fight. I don't want to be the one left standing because I did nothing while the galaxy burns." I knelt before Kyp Durron. "Do with me as you wish."

 

"Knight Dvukh," the Jedi Master said sadly, "I have never had any of my own Padawans disobey me like this. You are not my Padawan, but all the same, I must do what any other Master would have done in this case. I hereby lower your rank to that of Padawan, and as for Mastership, I will not take you. You seem to have forgotten what being a Jedi truly entails, for the moment."

 

"Have I?" I was crying, and whispering. "Please. Just let me fight. I will serve you well, and with your help and that of the other Masters, Jacen Solo will regret ever showing up at his aunt's funeral. I am sure he's behind this war. Not that my word is law--it never has been--but I trust the Force, Master."

 

"Then may the Force be with you--Padawan," Kyp Durron pronounced slowly.

 

Just then, another older male voice, one I knew and that terrified me now.

 

"Kyp? Is there a problem?" My insides turned to liquid. It was Luke Skywalker!

[Empress Padme]

I'm reading Inferno right now and I must say this is a lovely companion piece to it.You bring your own take on while still respecting the books. A perfect blend of fiction meeting fan fiction.

[Tysyacha]

THE FIFTH CIRCLE: THE WRATHFUL AND SULLEN (SLOTHFUL)

 

Strange. I'd expected Master Kyp Durron to upbraid me, especially in front of the Grand Master of the Jedi Order, for my demotion and insubordination. However, painfully and silently, he left me to confess everything. Why? He knew my insides were jelly, the consistency of kinrath mucus, and my voice would probably not be able to rise above a whisper or a squeak. This was some test, some measure of my mettle, but I would not let it get to me. Not let it defeat me, turn me into a quivering blob of tearful protoplasm. Never!

 

"I have lost my rank, Grand Master," I said softly, "and am now a Padawan."

 

"Care to tell me why?" Even though his voice was measured, I still couldn't stand to look into his eyes. Up into his face, even. Mine burned.

 

"I was told to report to the refreshers for cleaning duty," I admitted, "yet I refused. I told Master Durron that I wished to enlist immediately in one of the fighting squadrons holding Confederation forces at bay. Master Durron did suggest that I was built for peace, not war, and that someone had to pay heed to the people here on Coruscant. I, believing he was only talking about the Jedi Temple itself, was again insubordinate and scoffed at his direct order. I told him that there was a galactic war going on, that refreshers were the least of my worries while hundreds of our troops were perishing."

 

I was still kneeling, but this time I bowed my head and sighed. "There is no death; there is the Force. I know that much is true, and still, more work is to be done if we're going to find Jacen Solo, and if necessary, to stop him."

 

Kyp Durron said not a word. His scowl, meant for me alone, said everything.

 

After a moment--a veritable eternity according to me--Luke Skywalker raised me up. "You wish to locate Jacen, yes?" I nodded. "Perhaps to fight him?" Despite myself, I swallowed hard and nodded again. "Very well. Master Durron, you may return to your duties. I'm taking Padawan Dvukh on a very important mission. She may be critical to its outcome, and its success."

 

"What?!" Kyp was outraged. "Grand Master, I beg you to reconsider. This girl has impetuously thrown her rank as a Jedi Knight away by a refusal to perform the simplest of tasks. You wish her accompaniment on a mission that could be vital to the survival of this Order? Sir, what is your logic?"

 

"My reasons are my own," said Luke, "and as for you, Padawan--come."

 

I rose, bowed to Master Durron stiffly, and followed the Grand Master out.

 

"We are going to surprise Colonel Solo," Luke began once we had left the Temple, his voice one part hard determination and one part level dispassion. I was glad that he didn't seem to be hiding any anger or resentment about what I'd done. His mind was on business, and so was mine. The past? Gone.

 

"The Force tells me he is in the midst of a great battle at Balmora," he said. "Jacen knows that his position with us--with the Order--is on very shaky ground. One mistake, and the faultline shall crumble. Now. He is aboard the Anakin Solo, his flagship, and that's where we're going."

 

"Are you sure?" I blinked. "Grand Master, how will we slip past security?"

 

"We Jedi have a few tricks of our own," replied Luke with what I thought was a twinkle in his eye. "The Order wouldn't have survived this long if we had no knowledge of almost completely-unknown stealth techniques. Still, we must be more than incredibly cautious. Earthquakes don't affect only one side of a planet, you know." I nodded and focused, focused my mind and heart. I was so focused that to this very day, I could not tell you how we boarded the Anakin Solo. Only hazy question marks replaced the clarity I had...

 

The first thing that I truly saw was Jacen Solo himself, spinning around in his meditation chair and throwing himself forward to meet Grand Master Skywalker face to face, man to man, and lightsaber to lightsaber.

 

Luke smiled and frowned. "Is it still that bad between us?"

 

"You tell me. It wasn't the Force urging me to press the attack--it was you." Colonel Solo's eyes turned from his uncle to me. "Who is this you have brought with you? A Padawan in need of battle training?" A scowl.

 

"This is Tysyacha Dvukh," replied the Jedi Grand Master, "and, yes, she is a Padawan. My newest one, in fact." My heart leapt into my throat! Could it be that my late Master's husband was choosing to take me on after what I'd said and done to betray the teachings of the Jedi, even in so small a way?

 

"You think that was a setup?" replied Luke, meaning, I presumed, his contacting Jacen through the Force and persuading him to proceed with the battle of Balmorra, which we were right in the middle of. His voice was low, full of sorrow, and I could feel his inner pain in my heart.

 

"I know it was. You tricked me into committing the Fourth Fleet to a dangerous attack, and only you can keep it from turning into a disaster. What is it you want in return?" The Fourth Fleet was a commission of troops sent from the Hapes Consortium, and quite apparently, Jacen had a stake in how it fared in the thick of this skirmish.

 

Grand Master Luke answered Colonel Solo's question with a crestfallen gaze. "Nothing, Jacen. We didn't set you up." Suddenly, I felt an odd sensation in the Force, directed to the Jedi troops around me, I believed, but not to me. The Grand Master seemed to be, gently but rather forcefully, urging them to attack. I bit my lip. Attack whom? Us?! "I just wanted you to know we could have."

 

I closed my eyes, waiting for the Anakin Solo to start buckling and rocking under the charge of a thousand bolts of laser-fire, but this did not happen. Sweat was beginning to form in the crooks of both of my armpits. Was this the Grand Master's attempt to intimidate his nephew, to show him that the Jedi still had power and would not be brought to heel--his heel?

 

If so, it may not have been working on Jacen, but it was on me. Luke had taken me not into the throes of a mere battle simulation, but a battle. Here were the loyal troops of the Galactic Alliance and the Confederation, resorting to sacrifice through bluffs and dogfights. Could this lead to peace? I thought not. I was only a Padawan, but I knew bloodshed meant nothing.

 

At least not here. Would we survive this ordeal, and would I live to serve? Only time would tell, and a very short time at that. Jacen Solo deactivated his lightsaber and turned to Grand Master Skywalker. "Shall we see how the battle is progressing?" he asked Luke, his face a calm yet intense blank. I could read his expression about as well as a Hutt book.

 

"Be my guest," said Luke, not following Jacen as the latter crossed the day cabin of his own flagship. "I think you'll be impressed, Jacen." He then turned to me. "Padawan Dvukh? I think you'll want a better vantage point for this spectacle than I presently have."

 

Was it my imagination, or did Luke's pronunciation of spectacle rhyme with debacle? Yearning to find out, I went to stand near Jacen Solo. The three of us--he, Luke, and I--all watched the holodisplay, and indeed I was impressed, if not the intended recipient of this "shock and awe". The fleet of the Hutts and the Confederation was becoming increasingly marred by red dots and blinking distress signals, while the Fourth Fleet pressed on. I had thought Jacen would target the ships trying to land on Balmorra, but--

 

"Redirect your fire and pursue," I heard Jacen tell one of his officers, perhaps an admiral. "Our first priority is the destruction of the Hutt fleet, not the landing force." What?!

 

"With all due respect, Colonel, we can't abandon the Balmorrans to a Hutt occupation, and it's a lot easier to destroy those shuttles now than to fight their passengers dirtside."

 

"The Balmorrans will have to handle the occupation themselves. I want those capital ships destroyed--better to trap the Hutts on one world than let them occupy a dozen." I couldn't believe it. Was one planet truly that useless, that unworthy of rescue from occupation, that insignificant?

 

"That's an order, Admiral. I know it seems wrong, but we're not going to defeat the Confederation by blowing up shuttles. We need to kill the big ships."

 

"Very well, Colonel. Redirecting fire and pursuing." I blanched.

 

My new Master would not let this stand, and though silent, nor would I. "You planned this. You sacrificed a whole planet--!"

 

"I foresaw it. All I did was take advantage...of..." A flash. We were no longer aboard the Anakin Solo, Grand Master Skywalker and I, but back in the Jedi Temple where both of us, sadly but truly, belonged. I felt helpless, weak, impotent. Why hadn't I been able to stand up to Jacen?

 

"Well?" asked Luke Skywalker. "What have you learned of fighting, Tysyacha?"

 

He didn't call me Padawan, and for that I was grateful. My face was burning hotter than it had even when I'd knelt in front of Master Kyp Durron. I was trying to hold back the tears, but they came anyway. I had failed Luke. "Ya--ya ne mogla dyelat' nichevo--nichevo! I could do nothing!"

 

Luke Skywalker hugged me in his arms, as a father would embrace his child.

 

"You've learned your lesson," he said, and there was no patronizing tone or cadence of condescension in his voice. "Wrath brings power, but it also brings blind fury. If you're angry enough, it spills over, and there you stand, wanting to strike out and charge but not being able to move for your rage. You can't breathe. You can't think. All you can do is grope in the dark, the red dark, and hope that you get the chance to win before it's all over."

 

"I don't want that," I whispered. "Ya ne khochu etova." It was true.

 

"Then let me teach you. Let me guide you. Restore yourself to the Jedi, and you restore yourself on the path to peace. Will you take me as your Master?"

 

"Yes," I said, and then, "tysyachu raz. A thousand times."

 

Luke smiled. "Good. Now--it seems we have some work to do?" A wink.

 

It was then I learned that the mark of a true Grand Master is one who is willing to help two droids and one very humbled Padawan scrub refreshers.

[Tysyacha]

THE SIXTH CIRCLE: THE HERETICS

 

Sunset at the Temple. The evening was warm and balmy, and Grand Master Skywalker and I sat in one of the Meditation Gardens marveling at the blazing sky. Sights like this were rare on a planet as highly-populated as Coruscant, due to all the emissions from outdated space vehicles and pollution from less-than-reputable factories. I was grateful for this panorama, as was Luke.

 

He turned to me. "Padawan?" he asked. "What do you know of the Sith?"

 

Such a surprising question in such peaceful surroundings! I felt unsettled, but not so unsettled that I couldn't give a reply. "The Sith are fallen Jedi, or else those who have chosen the path of the Dark Side of the Force from the very beginning. They seek to destroy the Jedi Order and conquer the galaxy, or at least that's what they've tried to do as long as I can remember. Darth Malak, Revan, Exar Kun, all the way up to Darths Vader and Sidious--all have failed. It's because they let their anger and their hatred surpass them, using these sorts of emotions to fuel their power. The Sith are misguided on their path."

 

Luke raised an eyebrow. "Misguided? You don't think they're evil?"

 

"The Sith may be evil in the eyes of some, maybe even of most people in the galaxy, but as soon as I start thinking they must all be destroyed--killed--the more I ask myself what the difference is between me, a Jedi, and a Sith. Each side thinks the other is a sickness and a blight upon the galaxy, and just because we claim to be doing the right thing doesn't mean we have the automatic right to conduct secret assassinations and tortures like Sith do."

 

Luke nodded. "And if we don't have this right, how do we stop the Sith?"

 

"By defending ourselves against them in combat, though not pre-emptive, and helping peoples and planets to resist control and occupation by the Sith. The Jedi value true freedom, as we know it. The Sith believe that their way brings peace, but what kind of peace is there if you're afraid you will be murdered if you ever disagree with the prevailing opinion of the rulers? That happened under Palpatine and Vader, and I don't want it to happen again."

 

"Very good. The Sith use brutal tactics, including killing, which brings me to my next question. Some people say that at least the Sith are honest about why and whom they kill, and that is why some people join the Sith. What say you to this? Are we no different from the Sith, because sometimes we kill?"

 

I shook my head. "When we kill, we regret it. We Jedi hate it when even one life returns to the Force before its natural time. Most Sith view murder as either pleasurable and the means to greater power, or else a 'necessary evil', forgetting that the 'evil' part eventually trumps the 'necessary' part. As you have said before, Jedi never kill their prisoners, no matter what their crimes. If I were a Sith, or at least an apprentice, I'd truly fear for my life every day."

 

Luke took my hands. "Would you ever join the Sith?"

 

I bowed my head and closed my eyes. "I cannot say that I never would. I could break under torture, or be tempted by power, or ensnared in a deal I could not refuse because, supposedly, it would be saving the people I loved. I could join the Sith, because I'm fallible and I'm human, and hungry for so much in life that if the Sith promised me such fulfillment, I might take it."

 

Instead of frowning at me in disappointment or sorrow, Luke's face was glad.

 

"Good. Those who are most likely to fall to the Dark Side of the Force are those who believe they never would. Those who realize that they could have a better chance of surviving the temptations and trials that might make them surrender to and choose the way of the Sith. I am proud of you, Padawan."

 

I smiled, feeling relieved, but I still didn't quite understand. "I thought that the most likely people to fall were the ones who were hungry for power or had too much ambition or pride--like me, when I refused Kyp Durron's order."

 

"That's a misconception that the 'immune' ones consider, and the only one."

 

A shadow fell over me. The only one? Why? I yearned to find out.

[Tysyacha]

THE SEVENTH CIRCLE: THE VIOLENT

 

I had always been afraid of Wookiees, even though I knew most of them meant no harm to anyone if they weren't angry. The thing was, I'd heard a Wookiee's temper could flare at any moment, and when it did, disaster struck. Not just disaster of the broken-glass and twisted-metal sort, but bloody disaster--mangled bodies and severed limbs. That's what very low whispers around the Jedi Temple conveyed about these shaggy sentients. I was inclined to believe them, despite knowing that I might seem prejudiced if I ever mentioned any sentiments of this sort to Luke or any other Master. I had only known Wookiees from a distance, and I wanted to keep it that way.

 

So, when Grand Master Luke told me that he and I were headed to Kashyyyk to ask the Wookiees to join us in the fight against Jacen Solo and the now-ruthless Galactic Alliance, I did the best I could to hide my apprehension.

 

"I thought the Wookiees were on the Alliance's side," I began levelly. "Right now, they support GA worlds, not the ones that are joined with Corellia in the rebel Confederation. What makes you think they'll switch sides so quickly? If they find out the truth, there might be a riot, for some of the Wookiees are--short-tempered. I'd hate to be around when that happens."

 

"If that happens," Luke corrected. His expression was as level as mine, and yet there was a slight trace of reproach. "What are you really afraid of, Padawan? The Wookiees themselves? They're a peace-loving species, and they only do what they're so infamous for doing only if provoked to do so."

 

"Or if someone insults them," I said, and then stammered, "At least that's what I've heard. I'm sorry, Grand Master. I just don't want to see our arms torn off, or someone else's arms torn off, if the Wookiees don't take kindly to hearing that Jedi Jacen Solo has been up to some mighty Sith-like dirty tricks. What if they don't believe us? They might arrest us as traitors."

 

"Yes, they very well might," replied Luke, "and if they do, we have to be ready. However, I don't think our imprisonment and imminent execution are all we have to look forward to if we venture to Kashyyyk. This goes no further than between the two of us, but my own sister, Leia Solo, and her husband Han are already there. I don't know how they're doing in trying to convince the Wookiees' Rock Council to listen to them, but they're Jedi. They follow the rules and customs of any species they visit out of due respect. Let's hope they've at least gotten to the front of the massive crowd, eh?"

 

He motioned for me to follow him, and we boarded a shuttle for Kashyyyk. I hated to admit it, but I was still afraid. Wookiees could be very stubborn, and they demanded hard proof before they accepted any premise. How were Grand Master Skywalker and I to know if they would take our word or Jacen Solo's, if they would hail us as heroes or cut us down as betrayers of the GA?

 

I guess that was a risk we both had to be willing to take to move forward...

 

Here we were, at the edge of the "massive crowd" of Wookiees that Luke had spoken to me about before we boarded the shuttle. I heard a voice.

 

"Luke?" A female one, sounding about sixty. She sounded genuinely shocked. "What are you doing here?"

 

"The same thing you are. I came to address the Rock Council."

 

I was just as stunned as the Wookiees were, silent, my heart pounding. No roars of protest? No fists raised in anger, contempt, or even determination? No furrowed brows, no murmurs of confusion? This silence scared me. Why weren't they reacting, in any way whatsoever? If they would have swarmed the Council Rock, smashing themselves against it to get to Luke, I would have been more comforted and reassured, as odd and counterintuitive as that seems. My suspicions--or my prejudices--would be confirmed or denied.

 

As for Luke, he looked like death warmed over, but I could sense through the Force that though his face looked ashen, his heart burned with resolve. I was to stay behind--and I wished to stay behind--as he led Saba Sebatyne and the other Masters on the Jedi Council toward the Rock. Their steps were hard and measured, and for the moment, I took strength in that. Uniform, as one, a great WE of Jedi united with one purpose in mind: true justice.

 

The woman, tall, gray-haired and still beautiful, hoisted Luke onto the Rock. I presumed that this was Leia Organa Solo, a Jedi and his stalwart sister. My Grand Master paused to exchange a few hushed words with her, with an Ewok that I did not know, and Saba Sebatyne. At last, he finally spoke.

 

"I'm sure the Rock Council has heard of the assassination of Cal Omas, and of my son Ben's involvement in it." Cal Omas had been the former Supreme Commander of the Galactic Alliance, which was now Cha Niathal, a Mon Calamari. Strange. Grand Master Skywalker had not told me that his own son had been involved in this vile course of action, and my presumption was that Ben had been manipulated. By whom? I shivered. The crowd of Wookiees finally gave Luke a murmur of acknowledgement. "What you probably don't know is that Jacen Solo arranged it. Therefore, the Council has voted to begin active opposition to his continued leadership of the Galactic Alliance, and we have come to Kashyyyk to ask the Wookiees to join us."

 

The Wookiees themselves received this news with the same stunned, stoic silence that they had before. Worry once again clouded my mind. This was the final point of no return, now or never, do or die. Why were they just standing there?! I heard a voice of reproach within my own mind: Wasn't it I who wanted this stupid silence instead of an outbreak of rage? Or a riot? Why wasn't I happy, or at least satisfied? I silenced the voice and shook my head. This wasn't what I wanted, either. I wanted action, not inertia, even if action was against us. To me, silence meant terror, fear, unknowns.

 

I bit my lower lip, crossed my ankles, closed my eyes--anything not to feel emotion, to hide it. Compose yourself. Control yourself. Behave yourself. Be still. I wasn't supposed to be reacting this way, yet I was, again.

[Tysyacha]

THE EIGHTH CIRCLE: THE FRAUDULENT

 

The Wookiees had decided to stand with us, and now the wroshyrs burned.

 

Jacen Solo had decided to take revenge upon the planet and inhabitants of Kashyyyk by applying laser fire to their sacred trees, the source of their life and the essence of their homeland, and allowing said laser fire to behave according to its nature and achieve its logical purpose. If no one, especially no Jedi, stepped up to smother the rapidly-spreading blaze, Kashyyk would soon become nothing but a charred ball of ash, even viewed from space.

 

Grand Master Skywalker and I could not let that happen. Would not let that happen. The Wookiees mattered far more to us than as mere allies. We could not let them die, because they were as much a part of life and the Force as were the rest of us, human or not. If we let the Wookiees perish, whether through hasty negligence or intentional abandonment, we could no longer call ourselves Jedi or even human in its broadest, rawest sense. We would be no better than the Sith, and certainly no better than Jacen.

 

I was aboard Luke's StealthX fighter, not as his co-pilot, since I had no real vessel-flying skills of which to speak, but rather as a second, a lieutenant, a gauge-checker, liaison, and communications officer. I was the one telling Luke how much damage our shields and life-support systems were taking. True, droids and machines could do that, but there was no substitute for a living, thinking brain to relay information to you in the thick of a dogfight.

 

"Hang on tight. Statistics? Keep your eye on--! Report now. Steady!"

 

Rapid-fire commands, with no pleasantries, no pleases or thank yous. Masters of etiquette would have frowned at this, but then again, when were the people who taught you to use the right utensil at formal dinners ever trying to attack Jacen Solo's flagship, the Anakin Solo, and live to tell the tale? I could hear the courtesy in Luke's voice as well as the orders in front of it. Respect was important, but our lives and the galaxy more so.

 

Jaina Solo was trying to keep on our tail as backup, not wanting to abandon her Uncle in the heat of things. For some reason, this did not comfort me at all. Was Jaina a competent pilot? Undoubtedly. Was she a focused, skilled Jedi? If she were not, would she even be going on this particular mission? I had no doubts about the merits of Han and Leia Solo's daughter as she sought to take down her twin brother and his sorry excuse for a vessel, but still something gnawed at me. Jaina might have been good--more than good--and yet a tiny feeling of danger prickled in my spine. I didn't want to listen.

 

I felt Luke send a nudge through the Force to his niece, urging her to fire on the Anakin Solo. Lock them down!, my Grand Master cried, meaning the triggers that would make the leader of the Galactic Alliance wish he had never been born, let alone implement his coup. He'd told too many lies to get away with this. Or maybe not lies, not all of them, but half-truths, which were more dangerous because one could not automatically tell which half was true and which half false. Why should his life be spared, especially now, when he had no intention but to kill all of us?

 

I had a sudden thought: What if this whole war was spurious? Not "spurious" as in "meaningless", but as in "manipulated, a shell game, a sham or show, not meant for any actual tactical purpose or for the sake of ideals such as 'peace' and 'justice', but rather to keep the galaxy in a state of fear"? What if Luke Skywalker and I were about to give our lives for nothing, all because Jacen or whoever was controlling him wanted simply that--control?

 

If that was true, then hundreds, maybe thousands, of both Jedi/GA citizens and Confederation citizens had perished blindly, not truly knowing whom or what they were fighting for because the rationale for fighting had been carefully hidden from them. War was war, yes, but even though I hated war, I wanted it to be waged for a reason if it had to be waged at all.

 

Did that make any sense? I hoped it did as I clung to my sanity and my very grip on the situation at hand as I followed Luke's orders as best I could.

 

"Tysyacha! Stand your guard," Luke cried. "She did it, so be ready for fire."

 

I stood beside my new Master, ready to assist him with anything he might--

 

oh, Force, no, no, no, no, no, NO--

[Tysyacha]

THE NINTH CIRCLE: THE TRAITORS

 

Due to some very clever maneuvering by Jacen Solo, the turbolaser fire from Jaina's triggers, meant for her twin brother and his dark flagship, had hit us instead. Due to some very clever maneuvering on our part, which I still didn't remember for days afterward, Luke Skywalker and I did not wind up dead.

 

However, once we saw what was happening to Luke's son, Ben, in a torture chamber aboard the Anakin Solo, we both felt through the Force that our deaths would have been preferable to this present sight. It was insane, monstrous, senseless, absolutely incalculable in its cruelty, perfectly real.

 

Jacen Solo had wrapped Ben in a device of the now-defeated Yuuzhan Vong called the Embrace of Pain. Luke's teenage son was swaddled, like a baby, in thick vines studded with thorns. His skin was a deep tinge of purple, that of an unhealed bruise, and it was flaking away in scales. I shut my eyes tight.

 

Could this really be happening? Could Jacen be murdering his own cousin?

 

However--and this frightened me beyond words--maybe Ben's death was not what this dictator of the Galactic Alliance wanted. Perhaps Jacen's goal was to break Ben, not to kill him, to reshape his mind in any way he saw fit. It was hard to discern the true motives in so evil a soul, and I believed, in that split second before my Grand Master struck, that even his own father, Darth Vader, would not have used such a method of "persuasion" on future Sith.

 

As Luke sprang forward to attack, I did as well, but all of a sudden, a highly powerful Force grip enveloped me. I was held in midair, like a practice droid that was suddenly malfunctioning during lightsaber training. What was this?

 

Soft tendrils of the Grip started to slither toward my neck and choke me.

 

Do you see how we're fighting? asked a calm and gentle voice as the duel between Luke Skywalker and his nephew began in earnest. This is my Uncle, Padawan, and yet we are at odds as mortal enemies. Does this make any sense at all? Of course it doesn't. The Jedi Order and I should be on the same side, since we both desire the same things. Peace and justice for all.

 

Liar. My body was hot, but my thoughts cold. I loathed him utterly. Peace, to you, means keeping everyone under your rule in submission. It means silencing the voices of those who believe differently than you by either torturing, imprisoning, or executing them in the names of 'safety' and 'protection'. 'Justice', to you, means nothing at all. I won't stand this.

 

I never said you would, continued Jacen's thoughts through the Force, at least not while you are still under the manipulation of the Jedi and their corrupt teachings. Your Uncle is misguided, but he will yield eventually. You see, he was once Sith, the thrall of a clone of the greatest Sith Lord in galactic history. Emperor Palpatine's reincarnation held him in his grasp.

 

And yet he chose the Light. I felt an unseen finger constrict my neck.

 

The Jedi Order, since the dawn of time, has secretly promoted slavery and self-obliteration as the path to enlightenment, freedom, and happiness. Why do you think so many Jedi were exiled in the times of the Old Republic, and punished in the New through loss of rank due to supposed 'insubordination'? The Sith celebrate love and attachment, and feelings, and yet the Jedi still cling to the teachings of 'wise Master Yoda', who says to deny them all. No Jedi would ever, if they truly and fully believed in all the Order's teachings, forsake his or her duty to the galaxy to save the life of the one he or she loved. That was Anakin Skywalker's moment of salvation, dear Padawan, not the moment when he slew Darth Sidious in order to save the son I now fight.

 

Anakin chose the Sith to save his wife. Who would you do this to save?

 

I was revolted. This is a base question, and one that I refuse to answer! No one that I love would ever tolerate it if I turned to the Dark Side. They would not join me. They would spurn me, and spurn such 'salvation!'

 

Ah. So, even though you sacrificed yourself and your destiny as a Jedi in order to become 'evil' to save someone's life, you believe that person will reject you. Will you still love them, though they no longer love you?

 

Of course. I felt a second cold Force tendril curl around my windpipe.

 

Tysyacha Dvukh, answer me honestly. Whom do you truly love?

 

I shivered. Luke Skywalker, my Master and the Grand Master of the Jedi Order. I may not be his wife or his mistress, but I love him as a daughter loves her father, or a sister loves a brother-in-arms. I would never betray him. If I did, that wouldn't be love, would it? To me, that would be hate.

 

I joined the Sith to save Luke's life. I can flow-walk through the Force, my beautiful one. I have seen the path of the Light lead to the destruction of the very one who serves it. Tell me: is that 'good', or is that 'evil'? What kind of doctrine of love would lead one to death in the name of goodness instead of life? Luke Skywalker is but a man, as am I, and if I would have stayed true to the ways of the Jedi, in the future, I would have been Luke's murderer.

 

No. No. Not true. This 'flow-walking' through the Force--you're bluffing.

 

Not so. You wish it to be so, but it is not. Embrace the Sith, and me, as a second lieutenant under Krova. You will save the one you love if you do.

 

With all of the strength I could muster, I shrieked, "Ya--yevo' dvukh!" I am his second, his lieutentant, his apprentice, and never yours!

 

Pressure, darkness, and three words through the Force: We shall see.

 

FINIS

9/14/2007

[Empress Padme]

* jaw drops to floor* brilliant, i didn't want it to end.Very inspiring fanfic.

 

* coughs* even better than all the Legacy books combined* coughs*

 

Masterpiece.You have become one of my favorite writers regardless of genre

( basically your up there with my favs like Jane Austen , Michael Stackpole,Timothy Zahn and Troy Denning).Makes me wanna write my own take on the Star Wars books....but I know it would pale in comparision to yours but the fact that you inspire other fanfic writers to wanna put their own spin show how great a writer you are.

[Tysyacha]

Empress Padme, I am more than flattered by your words; I am honored.

 

I've never been compared to Jane Austen before!!! *blush* You say that my nine-chapter fanfic is better than more than 600 pages of the actual Legacy of the Force series? That's a compliment beyond my wildest imagination--really--and I super-duper-dooper thank you for it!!! When Fury comes out in November, or even ere that, would you like me to continue the story of this incarnation of Tysyacha Dvukh?

[Empress Padme]

* nods head * yes please. i would definately read it.Yep i enjoyed it more than Legacy books but that's just my opinion.